Pretty
by Emily Poe
Summary: AU Arthur has been going down hill ever since is mother died. Now, a teacher intervenes with two books that just may get him to open u again, along with annoying German who thinks he's just a little too awesome. NOT SLASH unless you squint.


So, little one shot for you all. Actually...this is a paper I had to write for English class. My teach gave us a number of topics and I picked _Bless Me, Ultima_ and _The __Odyssey_, Fiction, and Death as my three (or four) main topics. Went a little overboard on the word count, but ah well. _C'est La Vie~_

So, enjoy!

**WARNINGS: AU**

I really didn't want this to end up as a slash fic, but if you squint, I guess you could see it...

* * *

><p>Arthur had changed, drastically. He used to be the quiet, studious boy who wore sweater vests, loved books, and was usually surrounded by close friends. Now he was a punk, leather jeans, band shirts, and boots his main ensemble, studs in his ears, no longer caring about his grades, and losing close friends left and right. All of this had happened just over one summer. The summer his mother lost her battle with breast cancer. It had been a devastating blow for not only Arthur, but also his father and other close relatives, but no one had been more devastated than Arthur. He had been close to his mother. They had shared simple, but binding things like their love of books, and belief in magic, and even their horrible cooking skills. And now she was gone. Arthur didn't share anything with his father, same taste in moves was all they really had, but it wasn't as binding.<p>

Ever since she had died, Arthur had been slipping into a black abyss of depression, acting out of character, forcing himself to change, making a shell around him and not letting anyone in. His father gave up trying to do anything, his friends left him, and he was just fine with this. He let his grades slip and he started hanging with a shady crowd of people who really didn't care about anything but themselves. Just as Arthur liked it. On the outside, he kept his punk demeanor up, but inside he was falling apart.

Arthur had started to really hate school, how could he like it anymore when he didn't really care for it all that much anymore? He still did all right in English and History class, but in Math and Science, he had let those slip completely, and it was only October. At the beginning of the year, all the teachers had been worried, knowing he was a good kid and that his mother's death had really hurt him, but now some were losing their patience. All of the teachers had tried helping Arthur, but after a month of his shooting the help down, they'd given up. Except one. Mr. Jones, the young pre-cal teacher hadn't. Like Arthur, he had also lost his mother in high school, so he knew how Arthur felt. Unlike Arthur, though, he didn't shut people out, but talked about how he felt, talked with his father, to a councilor, and he had gotten better. The pain was still there, but it had dulled and soon wasn't even noticeable. For Arthur, doing what he was doing, Mr. Jones knew he was just suppressing the pain, but it was still hurting every day.

That day when Arthur came into class, Mr. Jones had decided to talk to him, at the end of class. He taught, wrote notes on the board, told the class about their upcoming test and wrote out the homework. The bell rang and students started to pack up and file out. Mr. Jones spotted Arthur in the back, talking to another punk, a German exchange student named Gilbert. Mr. Jones walked back, smile plastered to his face as usual. Stopping just a foot away from the two, Mr. Jones spoke. "Hey, Arthur, could you stay for a little longer. I want to talk to you about something."

Arthur looked distastefully at Mr. Jones, not wanting to go through any bull crap. He rolled his eyes and sighed. Turning to Gilbert, Arthur said he would catch up with him later. It was the end of the school day, so Gilbert would probably just smoke some pot and wait out front for Arthur. "'Kay, see ya Arthur. Hey, you see my brother Ludwig, tell him I'll be home late." said Gilbert, making his way towards the door. Arthur smirked. "Yeah, whatever, you prat."

Turning to Mr. Jones, the smile slid off his face and was replaced with a disinterested look. "So, what you want?" Arthur said, showing as much enthusiasm as a whitewashed wall. Mr. Jones sighed and sat on one of the desks, offering that Arthur sit too. Arthur remained standing, arms crossed. Mr. Jones knew he wouldn't be able to get through Arthur easily, but he needed to try. "Arthur, what happened to you?" Mr. Jones asked, hoping to get the boy talking. Arthur looked almost bored when he answered. "My mum died. I'm not sure how that is any of your concern. After this year you won't have to worry about me anymore anyways, so why don't we just end the conversation."

What scared Mr. Jones the most was that Arthur looked and sounded dead serious. Now whether it meant Arthur was simply going to drop out or...take a different initiative, Mr. Jones wasn't sure, and he didn't like the guess work. Trying again, Mr. Jones simply made a statement. "Arthur, I saw you around last year, you were a good kid, getting high grades, had lots of friends. You were happy. This year you look downright miserable. I'm worried about you, I'm sure your dad is worried, even some of your old friends are probably worried." Without missing a beat, Arthur shot his answer back, looking annoyed that a teacher would care. "My dad doesn't give a fuck about me, so please would you just fuck off and mind your own damn business."

Mr. Jones couldn't believe it. This kid had just cussed him out, when he was trying to help. Now, Mr. Jones usually kept a cool demeanor, but he could have quite an anger problem at times, but he couldn't this time, he wanted to help Arthur. Looking at Arthur, he noticed something. Eyes slanted, arms crossed, any fool could tell Arthur was downright angry, and Mr. Jones wasn't just any fool. "Arthur, please, just let me try to help you. Here, I know you used to love reading, and maybe you don't have much time for it now with your...activities, but even I like these books.", Mr. Jones said, walking towards his desk, opening up the drawer, he brought out two books he had gotten from his home that morning. Walking back to the annoyed teenager, Mr. Jones handed them over. Arthur grudgingly took them. Turning them over in his hands, he read the names of them out loud. "_The Odyssey _and _Bless Me, Ultima_? So, what therapy will this get me? I mean, I've heard little parts of _The Odyssey _and I don't think that will fix me, and I've never heard of this other one." Mr. Jones smiled a lopsided grin. "Not so much therapy as just taking your mind off things, you know? I mean, what else do you do now-a-days?" Mr. Jones asked innocently. He didn't mean to be rude; he could just be a bit of an airhead sometimes.

Arthur's eye twitched, but he decided to ignore that last comment. "Is that all then?" he said instead. Mr. Jones thought for a moment and then nodded. "Yep, that's it you can leave." Arthur sighed with relief; he didn't want to be there a second longer. Grabbing his bag, Arthur started for the door. Once he had gotten to the door, a voice behind him stopped him. "Oh, Arthur, one more thing. Remember to study for next week's pre-cal quiz!" Arthur stopped for a moment, and then smirked. "No bloody way." Arthur said, before stepping out of the classroom. He met up with Gilbert outside, who was indeed smoking some pot. Now how did Arthur know that was going to happen? Once Gilbert had spotted him, a grin sprouted up. "Hey Arthur, what did Jonesy want?" After getting nearer to the German, Arthur spoke. "Just said he was worried. Said my dad was probably worried, all that crap. Told him that I didn't need his sympathy." Arthur kept the part about Mr. Jones giving him the books to himself.

That afternoon, after Arthur blew Gilbert off, went home and up to his room, he took the books our of his bag and looked at them again. Why had Mr. Jones given them to him? Was it really just to take his mind off things? It actually annoyed Arthur that Mr. Jones cared so much. "It's not even his bloody problem.", he said, under his breath. Arthur sat on his bed and stared at the books. When was the last time he had actually sat down and read something? Sighing, he laid back against his headboard. Picking up _Bless Me, Ultima_, Arthur opened it up and began to read. _Ultima came to stay with us the summer I was almost seven..._

The story captured Arthur's interest instantly, of the little boy named Antonio, the _curandera_ named Ultima, and a multitude of other characters. Arthur soaked in all the words, devoured the story, page after page. How he had missed this feeling, of reading, of getting caught up in a story so much that he lost track of the time, of connecting with the characters and feeling a multitude of emotions. For a bit, Arthur felt alive, more than he had in months, since the beginning of summer.

After hours of reading, Arthur finished the book around eleven at night. Yawning, he put the book on the bedside table next to him. Without bothering to change his clothes, he turned off his lamp that he had had to turn on around six, and fell almost immediately asleep. That night he dreamed...

_It was bright, really bright. Arthur squinted his eyes and shielded them against the brightness. Soon his eyes adjusted and he looked around. He was at a beach, at a lake. A lake beach. There were many people around, laughing, playing, flirting, doing what people do. Nearest him, there were a group of boys, rough housing in the water, dunking each other, splashing. Arthur laughed, not having done that since he was younger. Then, two boys were climbing, up on a wall. They jumped, doing cannonballs. Coming up, they laughed. Then three more boys did it. They all came up laughing. Arthur laughed too. He got closer, hoping to see them better. They continued to jump and splash and play. Then, something was wrong. Two boys jumped, but...only one came up. Arthur waited, smile growing smaller and smaller. The boys had already started to panic, going down to look for their friend and coming up empty, calling out for help, one running out to get the life guard. Arthur didn't know when he had started, but suddenly he was running to the water. Splashing through the water, he dunked under and swam through it. He felt he was going slowly as everything started to get darker. His lungs never ached as he continued down, endlessly down. Then, there seemed to be a faint glow. Arthur's eyes widened. The glow was a few yards away, so he swam for it. As he got closer, he found a disturbing thing. The thing looked like a boy, but then didn't. The thing looked emaciated, almost like the pictures you find of people from the holocaust. His bones jutted out at odd angles, and his hair waved through the water, back and forth. The body was naked and intensely white, but had small marks here and there, like cuts and bruises. Its mouth was wide open, teeth and a gray tongue inside. Its eyes were two, deep black holes. The thing lay on the muddy bottom, just lay there. Arthur swam forward, and reached out his hand to touch it. His hand landed on the arm. He felt cold. The arm was cold, freezing, as if it had been there a long time. Suddenly, a streak of white came into his eyesight and latched onto his other arm. Arthur screamed and tried wrenching away, but the white thing held fast. It was a bony hand. Looking back at the thing, its black holes stared endlessly at him. Arthur tried wrenching away again but found he couldn't. The thing's other arm wrapped itself around Arthur, pinning his arms to his chest. Arthur kicked and twisted, but he couldn't get away. He screamed and screamed, but no one could here him. Looking down, he found the bottom of the lake had disappeared. Then he noticed, they were sinking deeper and deeper into the bottomless lake. He screamed more. "No!" he screamed, though not a sound seemed to come out of his mouth. Arthur kicked even more, but the thing seemed to tighten its hold on him. And then, Arthur felt it bite him-_

"Shit!" Arthur yelled out as he hit his bedroom floor, slamming down on his shoulder and head. His shoulder had landed on something pointy and hard on his messy floor. Opening his eyes, Arthur found that his blanket had cocooned itself around him, wrapping around his middle and having trapped his arms as well. Rolling over and untangling himself, Arthur stood up and, after fumbling a little, he turned on the lamp beside his bed. Looking at the floor to see what he hit, he found it immediately. It was a box of hardback books that he had thrown haphazardly into the box, many of the corners up. A few looks lay on the floor and the box was bent and torn somewhat. "Bloody fantastic." Arthur mumbled to himself as he rubbed his soon-to-be bruised shoulder. He shook his head and flopped back onto the bed, simply pulling up the sheets to cover himself, finding that he felt rather hot. He, quick, turned off the lamp and tried going back to sleep. Glancing at the clock, he saw it was 4:44. "Make a wish, buddy." he spoke to himself. As much as he tried, he couldn't get back to sleep very easily. His mind somehow kept wandering back to the weird he had just had. What the hell was with that? He sighed, feeling his heart pound at the thought of that..._thing_. What the hell was _that_? This would have to go to the top of his weird dreams list. One thing Arthur knew, though, was that he had been scared, no, terrified, at the thought that he was going to die, at least in the dream. Death. The gift that was guaranteed to everyone. Arthur swallowed hard and forced his eyes to close, but whenever they did, he just saw that face, that pale, soulless face. This was going to be a long night.

The next morning, Arthur got up, but was rather tired. He just threw on a new shirt and called it good. He felt dirty, but it didn't bother him much. He just wanted to get to school and return Mr. Jones's book. As he went down to the kitchen to grab an apple, Arthur noticed a note on the table. He picked it up and read over it, mainly out of curiosity.

_Arthur, getting back late tonight.-Dad._

Rolling his eyes, Arthur crumpled up the note and threw it into the trashcan. Making sure a house key was on him, he closed and locked the front door and walked out onto the sidewalk to find an annoying German smirking at him. "Hey sexy." Gilbert said cheekily, waving at Arthur. "You wish." Arthur said with a smirk. "Oh, ouch." Gilbert said, feigning hurt as the walked down the sidewalk. "Yeah, a total shock. Someone turned down the awesome you." Arthur said, playing along. Gilbert grinned a toothy smile. "The one and only. And that's Mr. Awesome to you." Arthur laughed and rolled his eyes. The dream tucked into the back of his mind, Arthur and Gilbert talked the whole way to school, Gilbert stopping once to mess with his younger brother and then asking him to leave the door unlocked before he went to bed. Arthur had no idea why, after messing with his brother, he would ask him a favor. But Ludwig, Gilbert's younger brother, simply sighed and nodded, seeming more annoyed than anything.

After parting with Gilbert, since Gilbert was a senior, amazingly, Arthur simply waited for the day to end. He did catch up with Gilbert during the lunch period, out on the blacktop. They smoked and just talked really. Arthur felt really comfortable with Gilbert, him being really the only new "friend" Arthur couldn't see stabbing him in the back for a bag of weed or a shoot-up of heroin. It was somewhat comforting. Gilbert was really the only good thing that had happened since his mother died.

Going back inside the school, Arthur just waited the rest of the day out, skipping gym to instead catch a quick nap in the library, and then, finally, pre-calculus class. Finally. He waited out the class, doodling in his notebook as Mr. Jones taught another lesson that Arthur simply blocked out. As soon as the bell rang for the end of the day, everyone filed out, except Arthur. Mr. Jones sat at his desk, gathering up papers and notes into his brief case. Arthur stood, grabbing his bag and walking up to the front desk. He waited for Mr. Jones to acknowledge him. Finally, he did look up and greeted Arthur with a smile. "Hey there. Finish the book already? Wow, you really are a quick reader. How late was it until you finished?" Mr. Jones asked as he took the book back from Arthur. Arthur said eleven and Mr. Jones whistled. "Jesus, kid. When you get into a book, you really get into it." Arthur smiled slightly. His mom used to say that to him.

After stepping out of the front gates of the school, Arthur was given the (not really) surprise of Gilbert. "Hey Arthur, going out with us tonight?", Gilbert asked, walking beside Arthur. After a moment, Arthur answered. "Uh...no. Not tonight. I've got some stuff to do. You'll have to get on without me." Gilbert pouted. "What? Come on man, you didn't go out last night; you're not going out tonight? What's the deal? Wait! Are you actually doing...you're homework." Arthur gave Gilbert a question look. "It's not bad t o your work once in a while. I mean, maybe you want to stay in the hole of the world, but I at least want to get to a bigger hole like, New York, maybe even back to London. Didn't you once say you wanted to take me to Hamburg?" Gilbert thought for a second. "Oh yeah. Well, guess you're right then. Man, Hamburg would be so awesome! Especially with you, you're not as bad as a lot of asses I hang with are. I think you actually have something up here." Gilbert said, pointing to his head. Arthur laughed. Gilbert always knew how to make Arthur laugh.

After saying goodbye to Gilbert, Arthur went inside his house and up to his room. Kicking off his shoes, he opened the window, letting in some cool, autumn air. He breathed in, closing his eyes for a second and then opening them again. Sitting down on his bed, Arthur pulled out _The Odyssey_. He looked it over and opened it, skipping the introduction and acknowledgement pages until he got to the real story, where the book really began. _Sing to me of the man, Muse, the man of twists and turns..._

Soon he was soaking in every word of Odysseus's journey, Telemachus searching for his father and finding courage, and Penelope fending for herself against the suitors. Sometime, late into the night, Arthur fell asleep and had a strange dream...

_Black surrounded Arthur. It felt cold, he felt cold. Arthur listened, feeling as though he were floating, nothing around him but the dark. Trying to speak, Arthur found he couldn't. He tried to scream and nothing came out. Was he dead? The thought scared Arthur to no end. He could feel his heart thump in his ears, thump, thump, thump. Swallowing, Arthur tried calling out again. Nothing. Just then, what was that, a light! A white light glowed softly, faintly, far in front of him. "Arthur...Arthur..." called the voice, sweet like honey. The hair on the back of his neck stood up as Arthur heard the voice. He knew that voice, oh he knew it well. Without thinking, Arthur ran, ran towards the voice that beckoned for him. The glowing white grew and grew as he came closer and closer. Soon, he was only a foot or two away from the figure of woman, glowing white before him. She was beautiful. Her skin was pale as snow and her hair was a light golden color, shining, flowing down her back to her waist, framing her heart shaped face. Green eyes were staring back at Arthur, a far off look in them. They were glazed over a little, but they were concentrating on him. A small mouth smiled under a small nose. The lady's cheeks had a rosy shine to them. She was wearing a short, white gown that looked like it was made of cotton. She held her arms about, as if ready to embrace him. There were small puncture marks on them, as if needles had been stuck into the pearl skin. "Arthur." she said. Arthur launched himself forward, wrapping his arms around her as she wrapped her arms around him. Arthur had sunk to his knees and the woman had done the same, not being very strong. Arthur buried his face into her chest. He hardly even noticed that it was flat, there was nothing there. He didn't care, he didn't care. "Mom...oh God, mom." he said, barely even a whisper. A frail hand stroked his hair as tears slipped from Arthur's green eyes, so much like those of the lady's. The lady presses her lips to Arthur's head. Arthur breathes shakily, crying more and more. "I don't-I don't want you to-to leave again. Please, please don't-don't go." Arthur said, choking on his tears, a storm of feelings going through his body. He clutched her closer as her fingers continued to stroke his head. Then, he noticed something. Her strokes had become slower. Pulling back, he looked at her. That's when he noticed, her arms. They had black lines zigzagging across them. Cracks. Her hands were on his cheeks and he put his hands over hers. Then, they began to fall apart. Disintegrate. First the tip of a finger, then another tip, and then a whole finger. Arthur held onto the fragments as he felt his breath hold in his throat. He could see the cracks were spreading around her body. Her legs, her arms, her chest, all beginning to crack. Suddenly her arms fell into pieces and Arthur gasped, trying to catch the pieces. And then her legs started to crumble. Arthur caught her and held her, trying to put the pieces back in a rush. He glanced at her face and felt his heart get torn as she began to cry, tears running down her cracked porcelain face. She moved her lips, trying to say something, but nothing came out. "Don't worry, mom. I'm going to fix this, just hang on. Hang on." Arthur said, trying to reassure himself more than anyone. Again her mouth spoke soundless words. Arthur felt her abdomen cave, dust coming out of the gown. Then her chest broke and only her head was left. Arthur had tears streaming down his face as he tried to scrape at the dust, still holding onto the only part of the woman left. Looking at her again, he saw a pained expression on her face. Then she closed her eyes and broke. Arthur stared wide eyed at the dust collected in his hands. He tried speaking, but only choked noises came out. He tried again, but still, just choked sounds. He tried again, this time with a voice. "M-m-mom…m-mom…mom. Mom. Mom!", Arthur screamed, clutching the broken pieces to himself. "Mom! No! Mom! Mom! MOM! MO-"_

Arthur woke up in the morning, sunlight streaming into his windows. There were dried tears on his cheeks, sticky now. Arthur rubbed his eyes and suddenly remembered the dream. He covered his eyes with his hand and urged the tears down. "Oh God." he said as the tears slipped passed. Taking a shaky breath, Arthur put on a complete change of clothes, a pair of tight, leather skinny jeans, and a Sex Pistols shirt. Putting on his shoes and grabbing his bag, as well as the book he had been reading, he made his way down stairs. In the kitchen was his father, sipping on a cup of tea and reading the paper. Arthur passed by him quickly, getting his own cup and pouring himself some tea. Arthur sat down at the table. His dad looked at him and smiled. Arthur smiled back and sipped the tea. He looked at his tea cup. It was pretty; a British Rose painted on the side. Beautiful. Arthur sipped some more and looked at his father, eyes flitting over the news articles. "Anything interesting in the paper?" Arthur asked, sipping some more tea. Arthur's dad grunted. "Not much. Ev'rday stuff, you know?" "Ah.", Arthur said back. Arthur's dad put the paper down and sipped some more of his tea. His tea cup had a robin on it. Pretty. "So, any plans for today?" Arthur asked. His father shrugged. "Going to the store, pick up some groc'ries. Come home, maybe do a little clean up, fill the bird feeders up so the little rats with wings will 'ave something to eat.", Arthur smiled. "Rats with wings, eh?" he asked. "Yeah.", said his father. "Don't want the little buggers to starve, do you? Your mother would ki-", and then he stopped. Arthur bit his lip. They didn't talk about her much, if not at all. "'T'sokay." Arthur said in a curt voice. "She really loved her birds, especially the robins. They were her favorites. She loved her garden too." Arthur said, trying to ease the tension. Arthur's father spoke next. "Yeah. She did, di'n't she? 'Specially her roses. She loved her roses." Everything was quiet for a moment. Arthur raised his cup to his lips and tried to drink. It made him sick, so he let it slip back in the cup and set it down. Then he looked up at his dad. "Dad.", he said, his voice pitching, as though he were about to cry. "Dad, I really miss her.", Arthur finally said, letting it all out. He cried and cried, letting out all the built up hurt, pain, heart break. Arthur's father was immediately up and holding his son, tears brimming in his eyes. "Shh, shh.", he said, rubbing circles in Arthur's back. "God, boy, I miss her too, I miss her too. Shh. Shh." They were like that for a while, Arthur crying and his father trying to be strong, but tearing up as well. Neither of them even noticed it when Gilbert walked through the front door, calling for Arthur. He stopped in his tracks when he saw the two. He felt his heart crack. Slowly, slowly, he walked out, not wanting to disturb them. He could walk to school by himself that day. Maybe he could meet up with his brother, Ludwig. They hadn't really talked for a while.

Arthur didn't go to school that day. Or the next. Or the next. He didn't go to school for the rest of the week. His father had called the school and informed them that his son would not be coming in until at least next Monday. The rest of the day, both man and boy, father and son, talked about Her. How they both missed Her, how She loved Her birds, how She would work for hours in Her garden. They looked through old photographs, half a dozen albums, recalling each memory that had been snapped-shot in an instance, watching old videos, dozens of them. The next day, both of them went to go visit Her parents, who only lived a few miles outside town. For this, Arthur adorned his old look of a sweater vest and dress shirt, though now they felt alien. That was the past, but for his grandmother and grandfather he would wear it, if only for a day. They were happy to see the two, not having seen them for months. They talked about Her there too. Grandmother told stories about when She was a little girl, and how She loved her dolls, and Her books, and flowers. Roses were Her favorites, English Roses.

Soon, though, they had to leave. Arthur said goodbye to his grandparents and left out the door for the car ride home. Tomorrow was Sunday. His father would be going in for work and Arthur would be staying home alone, but that was all right. Both had many things to think over. A lot had happened in such a short time, emotions had finally broken out and people had broken down. They just needed some time to think, breathe.

That morning, as his father left for work, Arthur was curled up on his bed, in a plain white T-shirt and sweat pants. He was exhausted, emotionally drained. He and his father had been crying for the past three days. Sunday was a day of rest, and Arthur intended to use it that way. For most of the night he had been on and off in sleep and was again awake when he heard his father's car back down the drive way and down the road. Now, he was simply lying there. It felt good, just doing nothing. His eyes had started to grow heavy again and his eye lids fluttered every so often. Soon his eyes did close, and started to sleep, lightly. It was only a few minutes before he heard a loud noise, like a rock hitting a window. He still kept his eyes closed, too sleep to really care. Then, he heard the noise again. And again. And again. Groggily, Arthur opened his eyes and rubbed at them. Opening his eyes more, he looked over at the window on the other side of his room. Under 'tap' resounded throughout the room. It was a rock hitting a window. His window! "What the hell...?" Arthur gurmbled as he slid himself off his bed and dragged his feet to the window and opened it. He was greeted with the yell of "Shit!" and a rock nicking the side of his cheek. Arthur yelled in surprise and stumbled back, hand on cheek. He puled it back to see some blood, not much, but a little. His eyes widened in confusion. "What the..." he said and then he sprinted towards his window and looked out. He saw a rather guilty looking Gilbert. "Gilbert! What the hell are you doing! You could have hit my head or broken my damn window! What the hell are you doing out there. It's bloody...seven! You're suppose to be asleep!" Arthur said, taking a quick glance at the clock. He had been rather annoyed with Gilbert at times, but now he was down-right pissed. What the hell was Gilbert doing, throwing rocks at his window? Gilbert gave him his toothy grin, but still looked guilty. "I haven't seen you for the last few days." Gilbert said, leaving out the bit of seeing Arthur brake down and cry. "Though you might have finally gotten too drunk and wound up in a ditch or maybe you just shot-up a bit too much. The others may not worry much about you, but we're still friends! I gotta check up on the younger ones from time to time, you know?"

Arthur had a stoli and rather bored look on his face as he leaned against the windowsill. "Mmmhmm. Well, that's all very well and fine, but would you please go the hell away and let me sleep?" said Arthur, starting to close thee window. "Wait!" called a voice from below. Arthur sighed and put the window back up again. "What?", he called back down. Gilbert shuffled from foot to foot before looking back up. "Can I, like, talk to you. Inside. It's freezng out here." Arthur grumbled under his breath, but said yes. He wasn't ready for more rocks to be thrown at his window. So, after much debate, Arthur yelled out an 'All right.' and shut his bed room. He then proceeded to trudge downstairs; a small blanket wrapped around his shoulders since it was, indeed, cold. The heat was not on.

Arthur stopped in front of the door, still contemplating whether to open it or not. Arthur sighed and hung his head. He knew Gilbert would be there knocking or throwing more rocks if he didn't open the door, so might as well deal with him now. He placed his hand on the cold, brass knob and turned it. On the other side was Gilbert, a smile on his face, but not the usual toothy grin, just a small, soft smile. Arthur quirked an eyebrow. "So, what do you want?" he asked, though it sounded more like a statement. Gilbert still smiled, though he looked a little uncomfortable. "Can I come in? It's freezing out here." Gilbert said, steering away from the question. After a moment, Arthur spoke. "Fine, but be quick. I'm tired and I would like to go back to sleep." Gilbert grinned and bounced in. Arthur rolled his eyes and shut the door, and then he led Gilbert to the couch in the living room. Both sat on the couch where an awkward moment of silence ensued. Then Gilbert spoke, getting straight to the point. "So, Arthur, why haven't you been at school for the last couple of days? Did you get sick or something?" Arthur was caught off guard. To be honest, he didn't think anyone would actually care, or notice. When Arthur didn't answer, Gilbert spoke more. "I mean, the other guys say your fine, probably just skipping or something. But, I know you better, you're not like that. And Mr. Jones is, like, super worried about you and told me, since I'm like your most awesome friend and all, to check up on you. And considering you never told me where you were an all, it took all weekend to find you." Gilbert finished, his regular toothy grin adorning his face. It made Arthur more at ease, a look that was so familiar. Arthur shrugged his shoulders in response. "I've had a lot to think about, I guess. I've been busy, if that's what you want to know." Both were quiet for a moment. Gilbert broke the silence, his eyes concentrated on the ground. "Does it have anything to do with Wednesday morning?" Gilbert asked in a soft voice. "Saw you and your dad in the kitchen. Came in to see what was taking you so long." Gilbert looked up at a Arthur, his eyes holding a look of sympathy. "I've never seen you cry before."

Arthur was speechless. He opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it. Gilbert had _seen_ him. Seen him _crying_. No one was supposed to have seen that. Great, just great. Arthur took a deep breath and then looked Gilbert straight in the eye. "Look, Gilbert, it's none of your concern. There's a reason I haven't told you, it's for me to deal with. Alone. Look, can you just lea-", but Arthur was cut off. "Dude, that's not cool! I'm, like, your best friend. At least, I thought I was. Look, if you're dealing with something that makes you break down and cry, just tell me! Is someone threatening you? Did someone do something to you, did someone hurt you? Because if someone did, I swear I'll beat the hell out of 'em!" Gilbert said ferociously. He was dead serious. Arthur stared at Gilbert, eyes wide. It almost scared Arthur how loyal Gilbert was to him. He had never had a friend who would do anything like that. It also touched Arthur. He wasn't alone, not completely. A smile cracked on Arthur's face and then he started to laugh. It started as chuckle, but then he threw back his head and laughed, because for some reason, it was the most hilarious thing Arthur had heard. Gilbert had a look of surprise and confusion on his face. Then anger. Gilbert balled up his fists as Arthur continued to laugh, Arthur's blanket falling slightly off his shoulders and around his arms. In anger, Gilbert gripped Arthur's shoulders, harshly and yelled at him. "Why the hell are you laughing? I'm dead serious, if anyone is messing with you, I'll fucking kill them! You don't believe me, just watch! Now, why the fuck are you not showing up at school, why the hell were you crying on Wednesday, and where have you been all weekend?" Of course, this only made Arthur laugh harder. Gilbert tightened his hold, but the shoved Arthur, and sat back into the couch, arms crossed and an aggravated look on his face. Arthur finished laughing, not even noticing the bruises Gilbert left (yet). Wiping away a tear from the laughter, Arthur looked at Gilbert, a smile on his face. He stopped himself from going into another laughing fit from Gilbert's cross look. Shaking his head and sighing, Arthur placed a hand on Gilbert's shoulder and shook it. "Well, if you want to know what's been going on, you best get out of this sour mood of yours. Your face could get stuck like that, you know." Instantly, Gilbert's face changed from a frustrated, aggravated one to a surprised, worried one. "Really?" Gilbert asked, nothing fake about his voice. Arthur chuckled and shook his head. "No, of course not you. Now, let's go to the kitchen. If you insist on hearing what's been going on, I insist on a cup of tea. Come on, I promise, your face is not going to stay in one place." Arthur said, grabbing Gilbert's arm as he made his way to the kitchen, Gilbert touching his face and making odd faces, trying to make sure his face wasn't stuck.

Once Arthur had mad his tea, both he and Gilbert sat down in the living room again. Gilbert also had a cup of tea, but he looked at it with his nose scrunched up. Why did he even take it? He hated tea, yet when Arthur asked if he wanted some, he said yes. Arthur sipped his and let the hot liquid fill him. He loved tea, especially warm tea. It was really the only kind of tea he could drink, hot tea. Earl Gray was his favorite. His mother had always smelled like Earl Gray...

Gilbert cleared his throat, loudly. It brought Arthur out of his day dream and back to reality. Blinking and looking up at Gilbert, he gave the other teen an apologetic look. "Sorry...anyways, let's talk." Both were quiet, again. It was awkard the way they couldn't begin the conversation. Gilbert finally broke the silence. "Look, I'm tired of all this awkwardness, let me just get to the point. Why were you absent all those days? What's been bugging you lately?" Gilbert said, getting to the point. Arthur was quiet a moment. Then he spoke. "At the beginning of the summer, my mum died." There, now Gilbert new. He had a disbelieving look look on his face, complete shock. He couldn't talk for a moment. He tried to, but all that came out were little splutters and unrecognizable words. For some reason, Gilbert was speaking German, probably because of the shock. Finally, coherent. English, words came out of Gilbert's mouth. "Oh...wow. I...I didn't know." Arthur smiled a sad smiled and sipped his tea. "I know. Not many did know." Arthur said. "It was a rather quiet ceremony, mostly family, a few friends. That sort. We kept it out of the paper and we had it in my grandmother's town. My grandparents aren't good or travelling and no one minded going to my grandmother's house, it was all fine." Arthur explained.

Both teens were quiet. Gilbert was letting all that Arthur tole him sink in. Arthur was letting him. Once again, Gilbert spoke. Licking his lips, he looked at Arthur, and then looked back at the floor. "Dude, Arthur. I'm..I'm sorry. God, that sounds weak." Gilbert said to himself in disgust. Arthur chuckled. It put Gilbert more at ease. "Gilbert, you never sound weak. Your loud mouth makes sure of that." Gilbert cracked a smile and Arthur continued. "You just sounded a bit more caring right there, that's all." Gilbert smiled, putting his tea on the table. He never bothered to drink it. Then, his smile went away as he thought about something. He turned to look at Arthur, straight in the eye "Hey, if you don't mind me asking, what was her name, your mom." Arthur licked his lips as he thought. He hadn't said that name in so long. "Angeline. Her name was Angeline." That name, it wasn't harsh or bitter on his tongue anymore. It was sweet, honey like. "Pretty." Arthur heard a voice say beside him. Arthur looked at Gilbert, who was looking really at no where. "Yeah." Arthur said. "Pretty."

* * *

><p>And that's it! Though I will say that two parts with Gilbert in it, I was forced to exclude from my final copy. Evidently, they didn't contribute to the story **<p>

But, you guys get that bit!

Read and Review!...please?


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